


Crying Over Spilled Milk

by d0g-bless (d0gbless)



Series: A New Breed of Training [11]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Domestic, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lactation, NICU, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Postpartum Depression, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 16:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14698287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d0gbless/pseuds/d0g-bless
Summary: In which Shiro, Pidge, and Halley deal with the aftermath of their newest family member's premature birth.





	Crying Over Spilled Milk

Halley counted four moons since Peanut disappeared.

Peanut was alive. That much the dog could gather from a single whiff of Metalpaw’s clothes when he returned home. But as to her location, Halley hadn’t a clue. It was clear that Shepherd, who stopped by frequently with loud tools that hurt her ears, also had been in recent contact with Peanut. But there was no sign of her presence other than her scent.

Halley couldn’t bring herself to eat her food. Instead, she gnawed on things she probably shouldn’t, like legs of dining room chairs. She knew better than to mark her territory in the house, but maybe if she did it, Peanut would return and yell at her for it.

But no. Instead, Metalpaw or Shepherd wouldn’t even bother to acknowledge her for making a mess. They’d clean up without scolding her for it.

Clearly something was wrong. Not only did Metalpaw smell like Peanut, but he reeked of grief and anxiety. He stayed up later than he usually did, pacing around the house until he passed out on the bed. He cried in his sleep, calling for Peanut.

On those nights, Halley curled up next to him and felt his muscular arms wrap around her body. She wouldn’t ever be able to replace Peanut, but at the very least, maybe she could help him feel a little better. She’d try to lick his tears and sadness away, but no matter how many she times she did, his grief still stuck to him, like a cracker glued to the roof of her mouth with peanut butter. If she kept working at it, like how she’d work away at that stubborn cracker with her tongue, it’d go away.

Metalpaw gave her a quick pat on the head after filling her bowl with fresh food and water, then ran out the door with a piece of toast in his mouth.

She sniffed the food, then slunk off to curl up in front of the door to wait for someone — anyone — to come home. Until then, she would sleep, the best way to stop worrying, if even for a little bit.

* * *

Pidge half-listened to the nurse’s discharge instructions. Even if she was getting out this afternoon, what did it matter? Sammy was still here and would be here for quite some time. The doctors kept saying that Sammy could stay until around the day she was due. That meant she’d stay from the day of her birth, January 23, all the way to April 13.

And that was only if things went well. The stay could be extended due to other circumstances, which Pidge tried not to linger on. But if she was doing very well, she could go home within a couple of weeks.

Either way, there wasn’t a clear-cut answer. It wasn’t like coding a website or anything along those lines. An input usually had an exact output. Same with math equations for the most part. Unless you were dealing with probabilities or inequalities, you could usually expect a single result with a single solution. Pidge preferred these sciences. They were neat. Exact. Easy.

But this? This situation wasn’t neat, exact, or easy.

Finances were not a concern. Shiro said he’d go back to the Garrison and teach part-time to make some extra cash. He didn’t even have to do that, of course. Pidge’s salary was more than enough to keep food on the table and pay off her and Sammy’s hospital bills.

Sure, Pidge could start paid maternity leave, but what was the point? Sammy’s stay was going to be a long one, longer than what work would probably let her take off. Besides, she didn’t want to spend all of her maternity leave with Sammy in the NICU. But at the same time, guilt gnawed away at her heart. What sort of mother would go to work when her newborn was so weak and tiny? What would her coworkers think of her?

Maybe she could ask to be assigned projects she could work on from home and the hospital. Yeah. That could work.

“...Any questions?”

 _Yes. Will Sammy be alright? Am I a bad mom? Is she better off without me?_ Pidge shook her head. “No, ma’am.”

“Okay,” Bridgette said. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. You and Shiro can stop by anytime to visit Sammy. Now go home and take — ”

Whatever else Bridgette said, Pidge paid it no mind as she signed and initialed her way through discharge paperwork, dotting her I’s and crossing her T’s. Right now, nothing was more important than going home.

No, wait. Sammy was more important. Far, far more important. Her stomach churned with disgust. How dare she even feel good about going home when —

“What can I take out to the car?”

 _Shiro._ His gentle voice whisked Pidge away from toxic thoughts swirling in her head. She gestured to the duffle bag he’d pulled together over the last few days for her stay. While he’d done a great job preparing the birth bag he’d stashed away in the car months ago, he hadn’t packed enough clothes for more than a couple days. Given the stressful nature of a premature birth, doctors had insisted Pidge stay longer to recover. Neither Pidge nor Shiro had anticipated that — or any of this, for that matter.

Once Shiro had taken the duffle bag back to the car, he returned to Pidge’s suite. “Ready to go home?” he asked, reaching for Pidge’s hand.

Pidge recoiled from her husband’s gentle touch, and Shiro pulled back.

She averted her gaze. She knew if she looked him in the eye, she’d have to look at him attempting — and failing — to mask his pain from her rejection. Right now, she wasn’t equipped for that. “I want to see Sammy before I —” _Abandon her. Leave her here to die._ “Go.”

“I’m — ” _not sure if that’s such a good idea._ Shiro swallowed the rest of his sentence. “I’m going with you.”

* * *

The sight of the Green and Black Paladins of Voltron visiting through the NICU was a sobering one. The nurses knew that it would also become a regular one, given the state Sammy Shirogane-Holt was in. It was unlikely she’d go home any time soon. But having heard the stories of the Paladins, the nurses also knew that if Sammy was anything like her parents, she would put up a fight not only to survive, but to live.

Pidge stared blankly at her daughter. So tiny. So little. So frail. Her hands balled up into fists. She couldn’t hold her, couldn’t touch her, couldn’t help her. She went back into her routine of pressing her face against the isolette, willing her daughter to get better, making promises she didn’t know if she’d be able to keep, and hoping, hoping, hoping…

“I’ll be back later, Sammy. I promise. I love you so much.” Barely a whisper. Barely a breath.

Shiro planted a kiss on top of Pidge’s head, then wrapped a supportive arm around her waist as the couple walked out together, finally headed home.

* * *

The creak of the front door opening had Halley scrambling across floors and carpet and tile and whatever other surface her paws made contact with as she sped to the door, barking at the top of her lungs.

“Sounds like she missed you,” Metalpaw said as he stepped past the door.

Wait, someone was with Metalpaw. Halley sniffed. She’d recognize that smell anywhere. Peanut! She was back! Oh, how she’d missed Peanut! Halley had to restrain herself from jumping up on Peanut — a most difficult task. How else was Halley to let Peanut know how much she’d missed her and loved her and worried about her?

“She’s not the only one,” Shiro continued. “I’m glad you’re back.”

Pidge hunkered down to the floor, close enough so that she could hug Halley if she felt the need. “Hey, Halley. Were you good?”

Halley ignored the question. Peanut smelled funny. A too clean sort-of smell, like when Metalpaw wiped down the kitchen tile with something she had been told to not drink or eat. She kept sniffing at Peanut, then stopped her nose at her belly.

That was it.

She pushed her nose gently against her human companion’s midsection. The pup. What had happened to the pup? Halley whined and pawed at Peanut’s belly, as if somehow that would answer all of Halley’s questions.

“Holy crow.” Pidge’s eyes grew wide. She spoke softly, so quietly Shiro could barely make out what she said. “You knew. You knew.” Her voice grew louder but more unsteady. “I should’ve listened.” She buried her face into the dog’s fur and sobbed. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

Halley tilted her head, unsure as to why Peanut was crying. She ran a tongue to lick away Peanut’s tears and hurt, but the sadness continued to ebb from Peanut, no matter how many times Halley licked it away.

Pidge wiped tears and dog slobber away with the back of her sleeve. She felt the presence of familiar hands on her shoulders and jerked away from them. “Don’t touch me!”

Taken aback at Pidge’s reaction, Shiro mustered a concerned “Pidge?”

“I’m gross,” she said a tad too quickly. “I haven’t showered or bathed in four days.”

“I can run a bath for you,” Shiro suggested.

Pidge shook her head. She wasn’t helpless. She didn’t need help. She could handle this. She always did and always had. Besides, she didn’t want Shiro to see her. Not… not like this. She’d only feel self-conscious in the Japanese-style bath he and Hunk had installed. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Alright. If you need anything —”

“I know.” Exhaustion settled into her bones, making it harder for her to fight off the irritation in her voice. So she didn’t.

Shiro said nothing.

And for some reason, that only made Pidge feel worse.

* * *

No matter how hard she scrubbed, Pidge couldn’t cleanse herself of that feeling of disgust, of self-loathing, of inadequacy. All of them refused to come clean.

Scalding hot water, twisted all the way to the “H” side of the shower faucet dial, beat at her back, now red and raw from all the scrubbing and heat.

Burning, scrubbing, scratching. Nothing made it go away. Despite this, Pidge continued to claw and scrub herself, ignoring the blood oozing down the insides of her thighs and dripping from the self-inflicted scratches on her back.

The former she’d anticipated. Just as menstruation cleared out the uterine lining every month before she’d gotten pregnant, her uterus was now shedding said lining and more of it and would continue to do so for the next couple of weeks.

She was more than used to the sight of blood. Years of battling and war numbed her to it. She’d seen spilled blood of all colors and viscosities and learned there were more types than A, B, AB, and O. And not just from warfare and helping out in camp hospitals and healing centers. Blood had its use in a variety of alien ceremonies and celebrations and dishes. And of course, she was far more accustomed to it than her fellow Paladins.

Watching blood swirl down the drain had little to no effect on her. But watching drips of a thick yellow cream intersperse along the crimson river forced out a sound, caught somewhere between a sob and muffled scream.

Halley bellowed a long and mournful howl in reply. Claws scrabbled against the bathroom door, desperate to find a way in.

“Pidge?” Shiro pounded on the door, panic seeping into his voice. “Are you alright in there?”

Pidge eased into a crouch, curling herself inward like a turtle might into its shell until she felt safe in the fetal position. She pressed her hands against her leaking breasts in an attempt to staunch the flow of colostrum or milk or whatever it was. She couldn’t lose any more of it. If she did, Sammy might starve. But maybe Sammy would be better off starved than have Pidge as a mother.

“Please answer me.” The door knob rattled then stopped. “Please.”

Pidge shook her head. Shiro couldn’t see her like this. She had to be strong for him, for Sammy.

Once again, the door knob rattled. But this time, something hissed and clinked to the floor. The scent of molten metal and burnt wood overwhelmed the bathroom. Steam made a swift exit toward the door that Shiro forced open.

Pidge slammed her eyes shut. She couldn’t look Shiro in the eye, not like this. Not when she was weak and bleeding and leaking and gross and fucked up.

The shower curtain swished aside. Pidge shivered as cool fresh air from the rest of the house brushed past her face. She braced herself for Shiro to lecture her, to pity her, to turn the water off, to call the hospital or police or something.

Instead, a sigh of relief.

For a moment, Pidge thought he turned the water off until the shower came raining back down. No. He’d blocked the shower for a mere second or two.

Shiro sat down beside her.

“You’ll ruin your clothes,” she mumbled.

“I don’t care.” He wrapped his arms around Pidge and pulled her against his chest. “You scared me. What happened? Are you okay? Oh my God, you’re bleeding.” Pidge winced as she felt a metal digit trace over a spot on her back she’d rubbed raw. It stung a little — but not as much as Shiro’s words: “I should’ve stayed with you, to take care of you.”

Pidge’s vision blurred. Were those tears running down her face or water from the still-running shower. It didn’t matter, whichever it was. What did? Her husband thought she couldn’t take care of herself. He didn’t trust her enough to even let her be on her own for even ten minutes!

Images flashed through her mind:

Shiro wrapping her up in a blanket then carrying her to bed after staying up far too late for work.

Shiro reminding her to take her allergy meds and helping her apply sunscreen.

Shiro grinning ear to ear as he made her a cup of coffee in the morning before going for a morning jog.

She refused to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, Shiro was right. If she did say he was right —and he wasn’t of course — that meant she probably couldn’t care for Sammy. Shouldn’t care for Sammy.

“Let go.”

“Pidge?”

“I said let me go.”

Shiro did as his wife commanded and released her from his embrace. She eased herself up to her feet. Even without the extra weight of the baby, standing up was still difficult. Her center of balance had been thrown off for the past few months, and now she had to readjust again.

Feeling Shiro’s worried expression glued to her bare back, Pidge threw out a quick, “I can do it.”

“Here, let me help.”

“ _No!_ I don’t need help, I don’t need you feeling sorry for me, I don’t need to do anything but sleep tonight!” For extra measure, she added, “Alone.” With that, Pidge hobbled out of the shower and wrapped herself up in a towel, then gathered her clothes and slammed the bathroom door behind her.

Shiro shivered.

The water had gone cold.

* * *

A nagging ache kept Shiro awake that night. No, nix that. Nagging _aches_ kept him up.

Part of that pain might’ve been due to the fact that Pidge forced him to take the couch for the night. By no means was Shiro old, but he certainly wasn’t young anymore. His joints bothered him from time to time, and he knew that even if he’d somehow sleep tonight, he’d wake up with a nasty crick in the neck in the morning.

In all of those stupid movies and TV shows that had a pregnancy in the plot or written in, the expectant parent almost always sent their partner to the couch after a fight. Shiro had expected Pidge to banish him to the sofa if he pissed her off enough.

She never did.

Yet here he was now, exiled to sleep on the sofa less than a week after his daughter’s birth. Hell, even Halley knew he was in the doghouse and was probably snoozing in his spot. He’d been replaced by the dog! That was bad. Worse yet, he didn’t even know _why_ she’d banished him out here.

He understood Pidge was hurting. She was scared. Terrified, even, of losing Sammy. And so was he.

But what scared him even more than that, perhaps, was losing his wife.

There was the other ache: his heart.

When he saw those raw spots and a cut or two on Pidge’s back, he’d felt sheer terror. He and Pidge had almost lost Sammy — and they still weren’t out of the woods yet — and because he’d failed to pay attention, failed to be at Pidge’s side, it nearly happened again. But this time, he’d lose Pidge, and it’d be all his fault.

The past few days had been tough with just him alone in this house. It wasn’t a home without her here. But to live out the rest of his years by himself anywhere without Pidge was a nightmare.

He had to pinch himself to ensure that this wasn’t a dream. Nope. He felt that. For better or for worse, this was reality. And the reality was this: he’d hurt Pidge, and he wasn’t sure how to fix things with her, especially since she refused to say more than a couple words to him.

Shiro yawned. Maybe sleeping on this would help.

The pins and needles sensation tingling throughout his leg told him that sleep wasn’t a viable option tonight.

* * *

“Remind me, Halley, why didn’t I use you as a body pillow more often?” Pidge practically spooned the giant dog, running her fingers through Halley’s fur.

Halley wagged her tail, happy to be of any use to Peanut. She’d missed her so much and was thrilled to be sharing a bed with her. But didn’t Peanut miss Metalpaw?

Warmth rose up through Pidge’s chest, practically spilling over — “Oh, _fuck_.” Milk had leaked through her — actually, Shiro’s — shirt without her noticing. She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. What to do, what to do, what was she supposed to do? What had Bridgette told her to do if this happened? It started with a “P,” and Pidge was fairly certain it wasn’t panic.

She turned on the lamp on her nightstand. At the foot of the bed lay the suitcase Shiro helped her take back home. Pidge crawled over to it and unzipped it.

There it was: an electric breast pump. Bridgette said the hospital sometimes let new mothers rent them, but given the circumstances, Pidge could borrow it for free. Pidge doubted just any NICU parents got one to borrow one. Pidge was certain the nurse was just giving the Green Paladin some special treatment, and she had been too exhausted to decline.

Even though Sammy probably wouldn’t be able to breastfeed for a couple weeks, Bridgette said that Pidge could still help out by pumping milk. In fact, she’d strongly recommended it, as Sammy would probably be able to digest it through a tube by the end of the week.

Pidge straightened up so she sat upright, unshaven legs crossed. She tore off her top and tossed it toward the general direction of the empty hamper. Funny, she could’ve sworn that hamper had been overflowing the last time she was home. But she and Shiro had spent so much time at the hospital over the last few days; there was no way he’d been able to take care of that giant load. Or maybe he had and she hadn’t noticed because she’d been so focused on Sammy.

_Sammy._

Determination coursed through her veins. While she couldn’t do much for Sammy, at least keeping a steady supply of milk would be something. It was better than sitting around worrying or feeling guilty or angry or sad or empty.

She pressed suction cups against her pert nipples, then followed the tube connecting them to a powder blue box. She took a deep breath and pressed a button on the box.

_This is for you, Sammy._

* * *

Shadows drifted through Shiro’s vision. Out of the corner of his eye, one shadow blurred. He shot up, alert, blood pounding in his ears. He blinked hard a couple of times then shook his head with a weary sigh. _You’re imagining things,_ he reassured himself. _Just your PTSD flaring up. Try to sleep._

As he attempted to lay back down, the sound of creaking floorboards and slightly unfamiliar footsteps hauled him back up on his feet. An intruder!

His heart thundered against his chest as his feet hit the floor. He ran toward the source of the sound, foot hammering at the same rate as his heart. Save for his activated Galra arm’s malevolent purple glow, the kitchen was pitch-black. Though Shiro hated everything about that arm, he did, however, appreciate that it helped him see his surroundings in the dark.

The top half of the stainless-steel fridge swung open before him, reflecting his hand’s purple light. Below that, however, stood a set of legs.

He lunged at the freezer door with a growl. There was a startled cry followed by a shattering crash. Something wet pooled around his and the intruder’s feet.

The intruder fell to their knees, trying to save whatever it was they’d attempted to take. “What the fuck, Shiro?” Pidge’s voice quavered, on the edge of tears and an angry outburst. “Oh, no, no, no.” She cast any and all dignity aside as she tried to gather the liquid into her arms. “Without this, she’s going to lose weight and shrink and starve and die and it’ll be all my fault…”

It took Shiro a moment to follow what Pidge was saying.

Then, it all clicked into place.

“Hey.” Shiro brought himself to his wife’s level. “It’s not your fault. I thought some creep broke into the house, and I sort of went on autopilot. I wasn’t thinking.”

She huffed. “Yeah, but if I hadn’t kicked you out of bed, this wouldn’t have happened. And it’s still my fault.”

“What is?”

Ashamed, Pidge averted her gaze. “It’s my fault that Sammy was born early.” She sniffled. “I think I knew what was happening. I knew all the signs of labor.” Her sniffles morphed into a full-on sob. “I just didn’t want to admit it was happening. If I’d said something, anything, this wouldn’t have happened. I’d still be pregnant, she’d still be safe and healthy until she was supposed to be born.” Guilt and anguished cries wracked her small frame, her shoulders heaving and shuddering between each breath she took. “I shouldn’t be a mother. It’s my fault this happened, all of it. Besides, I can hardly take care of myself. I mean, you said it yourself, right? You can’t even trust me to be alone without fucking something up.” Warm and cool, flesh and metal, held her shoulders in place, like she was about to fall apart at the seams at any given second.

“Is this okay? I’m not holding you too tight or anything?”

His own hand felt her shrug beneath his gentle grip. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Can I hug you?”

She said nothing.

“Katie, look at me.”

Pidge wrenched her gaze back to Shiro’s eyes. To her surprise, Shiro’s eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed from crying. A tear slid down his cheek. “If you don’t mind the fact that I’m sticky from being covered in breastmilk, a hug actually sounds nice.”

He pulled her into his lap and cradled his arms around her, her chin resting on his shoulder. “I don’t mind at all,” he said, tangling his fingers in her hair. “And it’s not your fault. If I’d gone to at least one of those appointments with you or did a little more reading, I would’ve known more. Then I would’ve taken you to the hospital immediately. And it’s not just that. The Galra —” He took a deep breath before continuing. “— I don’t know everything they did to me. I don’t remember everything they did to me. It’s possible that this could be sort of a genetically modified issue. They could’ve done something that affects future offspring. I wish I could remember, but I don’t.” He squeezed his eyes shut, as if for some reason that would bring back the memory of that horrific year.

“Stop. You’re going to throw yourself into another panic attack. That can’t be the problem, Shiro,” Pidge replied. “I knew that was something you’d worry about, so I opted for an amniocentesis test, just to be sure. The amniocentesis results said there were no developmental abnormalities. I should’ve told you, but I thought you’d freak out if I mentioned it. I’m sorry.”

Shiro shook his head. “No, if anyone should apologize, it’s me. About what I said earlier. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I didn’t trust you or think you can’t care for yourself. It’s more, well, I realized this when I tried to sleep on the couch. It’s been hard coming back here every night without you. It’s not the same. So when I saw that you’d scrubbed yourself raw—”

“You thought you were going to lose me,” Pidge finished for him.

“I’m so sorry, Katie.”

Shiro and Pidge sat together, holding one another, for several minutes, letting themselves cry all of the pain and guilt out of their systems.

After what seemed like hours, Pidge pulled back a little bit, just enough to press her forehead against his. “We’re both messes right now, aren’t we?”

“I’ll say.” The corners of his mouth twitched upward a bit. “We’re both crying over spilled milk. Literally and figuratively.”

With a slow roll of her eyes, Pidge heaved a dramatic sigh. “I want a divorce.”

“Wait, are you serious? Pidge? Really?”

She tapped her chin with her index finger. “Maybe I’ll reconsider after we get all of this cleaned up. And if it makes you feel any better, I can take you up on that warm bath?”

He relaxed a little. “I can’t guarantee that the water will be warm since you used up all the hot water, but I can certainly get that started for you. I mean, we should probably try to be a little presentable and well-rested before we go back to the hospital tomorrow. I think Sammy should get to see her mommy at her best.”

“Good call.” Pidge yawned. “Besides, we’ll have to return the breast pump the hospital gave us since you did just destroy it and all.”

Shiro smiled sheepishly, then snapped to attention. “Where’s Halley? I thought for sure she’d be down here trying to clean up the mess we just made.”

Pidge shrugged. “She’s inside. I’m not too worried.”

* * *

Sure enough, Halley was inside. After their bath, Shiro and Pidge found her waiting for them, tail wagging, at the foot of their bed.

“Funny,” Pidge remarked. “She was on your side of the bed earlier. Guess she likes it better when we’re not fighting or something.”

“Something like that,” Shiro agreed, slipping under the covers.

Halley watched her companions snuggle up to one another and wagged her tail.

It was good for them to be back.


End file.
